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While she was speaking, there came the far-off patter, patter, scratch, scratch, of somebody climbing up to the attic. "Grand-daddy Whiskers," guessed Mother Graymouse, "or it may be Uncle Squeaky bringing us bad news." And then, up through the hole in the attic floor, who should appear but Limpy-toes himself!
Over in another corner of the loft, Wink and Wiggle were playing a game of tag with the Graymouse twins. "Let's have a Christmas tree next week, like the young Giants did last year," proposed Silver Ears. "All trimmed with pop-corn and candy!" exclaimed Buster. "Oh, Silvy, that would be grand!" "Let's go right now and find Scamper and Limpy-toes," said Dot.
But he grew worse as soon as he drank. Poor Daddy! And so he died out there in the cold winter weather. Sniff! Sniff! This has been a painful task, but you must remember every word I've spoken this morning. Now for our review lesson." "E n e m y, enemy," she spelled. "E n e m y, enemy," chanted five obedient mice. "T r a p, trap," went on Mother Graymouse. "T r a p, trap," echoed her scholars.
At last, Silver Ears, Buster, Tiny and Teenty were seated around the breakfast-table sipping their hot porridge. Mother Graymouse was dressing Baby Squealer who was howling, as usual. "Where is Limpy-toes, Mammy?" asked Tiny. "Didn't he come home?" "Sniff! sniff!" went Mother Graymouse. "My poor children, I fear you will never see your dear brother again."
The others went homeward, also, for it was getting late. "A little music is like medicine to a sad mouse," said Uncle Squeaky after supper. "Pa Field-Mouse seems down-hearted tonight. Trot along, laddies, and put on your band uniforms that Ma Graymouse made last summer. We will give Pa Field-Mouse a band concert." Grand-daddy nodded his head. "A grand idea, Hezekiah.
She disappeared down the hole and soon returned with a bottle of vinegar tucked under her plaid shawl. "Aren't you afraid that vinegar will strangle the poor dear?" protested Mother Graymouse. "Not a bit of it; not a bit of it! Give me a spoon," directed Granny. Buster made a wry face as he swallowed the sour dose. Then he began to cough and splutter and choke until Mammy grew frightened.
"We will ask them to help us choose a tree and bring it home. There is lovely moon-light, out of doors." Mother Graymouse and Aunt Squeaky said they might go to the woods if they would be very careful. So they dressed warmly and started out. They met Limpy-toes and Scamper dragging home the shopping bag filled with delicious cream cheese from the store. They readily agreed to help find a tree.
"When that Maid Norah goes about killing flies by the dozens, does she call herself a murderer?" demanded Mother Graymouse with indignation. "When that old black Tom gobbles up an innocent mouse for his supper, does she call him a murdering beast? Neither are we thieves," went on Mother Graymouse hotly. "Even mice must live, and unless we eat we will surely die.
Can't you jiggle the cradle, Limpy-toes, while you finish digging out the dish?" Mother Graymouse looked very sober when she came home. She took a cracker and some stale cake crumbs from her pocket. "This is all I could get to-night, my dears," she explained sadly. "That wicked Thomas Cat is prowling about and I had to be careful.
"He must like to work so hard," drawled Buster. "Oh, it's jolly fun!" cried Tiny. "It's jolly fun," echoed her twin Teenty. "Maybe it is," said Mother Graymouse, "but I'd like to chew a hole in those toys that would let out all the noise. With their racket and Squealer's howling, I'm almost crazy. Here, Silver Ears, sit by the cradle and amuse the baby. I must try to find something for our supper.
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